


Game Night

by Frankie_Winchester



Series: The Secret Life of Frankie [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempts at Fun, Board Games, Comedy, Explicit Language, Frankie Pearce, Friendship, Healing, Humor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28803252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankie_Winchester/pseuds/Frankie_Winchester
Summary: ~ Part of the Sequel Miniseries to Two and a Half Winchesters ~Frankie is still healing from her trauma, so Castiel tries a new method of helping her. After reading that shared hobbies and interests can help his friend, Cas attempts to figure out what humans do for fun.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Secret Life of Frankie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2073555
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Game Night

She writhed in her sheets, a panicked screech tearing through her throat. Short squeals wheezed from her lungs as she kicked against the bed, pushing her closer to the headboard. Her head whipped from side to side, wide eyes flicking around the room.

Her eyes landed on him. Her clenched fist uncurled, her raised shoulders relaxing. She reached out her hand to Castiel’s forearm, griping his coat.

She shut her eyes. Her quick breaths slowed as she reeled herself out of the pits of Hell and into her room.

Cas watched as her brows, furrowed in alarm, eased into a calm line. His eyes were drawn to the arteries on her neck that throbbed in rhythm to her palpitating heart. With each meditative breath she took, the quivering vessel slowed to a tranquil speed. He felt her grip on his coat loosen.

Her nightmares had not lessened in quantity, yet her confusion upon waking up had seemed to dissipate. He was correct in assuming that his presence would help to some degree, though Castiel felt like more had to be done.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Frankie let go of his coat and patted his arm as she shuffled off the bed. “No. That was a bad one. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

Castiel rotated his body and set his feet on the floor as Frankie plucked her uniform from the floor. She waddled into the bathroom. Cas examined her leg as she entered the next room, specifically the limp present in it.

He didn’t need to enter her thoughts to know that she was in a great deal of pain. She was most days. If he possessed his full strength, he could have cured her pain with the slightest touch, but with his limited abilities he would have to, as the humans say, “think outside the box.”

Frankie opened the door and walked out of the bathroom, fully clothed in her purple uniform and hair drawn back in a headband. The light leaking into the bedroom from the bathroom fixtures illuminated the side of her face. Castiel’s brows furrowed at the dark rings under her eyes.

Frankie breathed out a quiet groan. She stepped over to her nightstand and opened the drawer. She took out a small white bottle and screwed off the lid, tapping the top onto her palm. Two white capsules were hastily popped into her mouth and were followed by a large gulp of lukewarm water from a half empty plastic bottle.

She stuck out her tongue and groaned a grimace before walking into the next room. Castiel remained seated on the bed, listening to the light clinking of bowls and utensils from the kitchen. He was relieved to know that his presence in the morning encouraged her to eat breakfast.

He rose from the bed and stood in the bedroom’s threshold, watching her slurp cereal from a spoon. She set her elbow down on the table next to her bowl, rubbing her face with her hand. She dug deep into her eye sockets, thumb and middle finger rotating in hard circles.

Her days were repetitive. She would awaken from a nightmare, in fear and in pain, and stumble around her apartment until she had to leave for her job. She would then arrive home exhausted and angry, oftentimes sitting at the table and saying nothing. She wouldn’t read a book or watch television. She would barely bring herself to prepare dinner before retiring to bed to greet that demon.

She scooted her chair back with a screech and carried her bowl and spoon to the sink. She balanced it on top of the pile of dishes and headed to the front door to step into her sneakers.

“I’m off. See you tonight.”

She sounded enervated. Broken. She was, of course, but she used to hide it. As concerned as he was to hear her true exhaustion, he found it a small victory that she was no longer hiding behind a poorly constructed façade.

She shut the door behind her, leaving Cas alone in the apartment.

He had been allowed to monitor her slumber for over a week now. While there were a few adjustments and slight improvements, she was still far from the Frankie of old. It was time for the next step.

Cas crossed the room and sat himself down on the couch. He took his guidebook out of the inner pocket of his coat and flipped through the pages. His finger scanned the page entitled “Offer Social Support.”

He thought back to how he handled his last attempt at reaching out to her. He had to admit that he didn’t altogether know what he was doing. The book was not very clear on what to say. How could he have told her to talk to him without _telling_ her to do so? Humans were frustratingly vague beings.

However, one section of the chapter did seem rather clear. “‘Spend quality time with your loved one,’” he read. “‘Engage in activities together. Hobbies, exercise, fun outings…’”

His gaze reached passed the book in his hands, eyes squinting as gears turned in his head.

“Fun.”

\---___---___---___---___---

A bell chimed through the store as the glass door opened. Castiel observed the spacious environment, logging the rows of bookshelves, displays of vinyl records, and dark green carpeting into his memory. There was a potent scent of caffeinated bean in the air, the likes of which humans became severely addicted to.

Castiel walked across the room, tracing every inch of the building, memorizing each book’s title as he passed them. He would surely find guides of all kinds on activities that Frankie could try, but to find the right one would be a true test of his intellect. He was a poor judge of what humans chose to do in their spare time – aside from indulging in necessities and recreational intercourse, neither of which seemed to interest Frankie since returning from Hell.

Castiel turned his head at the sound of movement. There was a man with thin glasses and peculiarly round facial hair standing behind a long counter, pouring a handful of pens with woolly caps and variegated patterns in a display. Castiel walked to the counter.

“Hey there,” the man greeted, looking up from a cardboard box full of the same pens. “How can I help you, sir?”

“What do you like to do for fun?”

The man paused, a fresh handful of pens stilling in his fist. He cocked his head and pivoted to fully face Castiel. “For fun? What do you mean?”

“I mean…”

Cas realized in that moment that he must have appeared quite off-putting. He was stiff. He needed to appear friendly and welcoming. How did Dean usually pull off such a look?

Cas cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his arm on the countertop. He lifted his chin and released any tension he could in his brows. “What do you like to do for fun?” Once the words left his mouth, he realized that he forgot to smile. Hoping to recover, he flashed a small grin and nodded to the cashier.

The man stood rigid, lightly gawking at Castiel. The angel thought that was strange. Wasn’t the proper response supposed to be eased and comforted?

“Uh… well, I, uh, typically spend my off time with my _wife_.” He lifted his left hand, slightly wiggling his fingers, the gold wedding band twinkling in the fluorescent light fixtures. “So… y’know. I’m flattered, though.”

Cas narrowed his brows and squinted his eyes. Yes, this man was indeed strange.

“Perhaps I should be more specific,” he said, lifting off the counter and reverting back to the position he was most comfortable in. “I am looking for fun activities to engage in with my friend.”

The cashier gave an open-mouthed nod of understanding. “Gotcha. Well, there’s tons of stuff you could do then. Uh, watch movies, TV shows – we got a media section in the back. Uh, physical activities. Hiking, biking, mini golf, to name a few. I personally enjoy the stimulating sport of competitive table tennis, of which I am a two-time champ.”

Physical endeavors may be too taxing for Frankie. She was already in enough pain.

“What are less physical activities that friends can do together?”

“Video games. Play ‘em right on your couch. Course, you’ll need the right appliance. What kind of console do you prefer?”

Cas furrowed his brows, considering the sudden question.

He reached across the counter, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He tilted his head and stretched his lips into a small smile. “It’s going to be okay.” He patted his shoulder twice before withdrawing his hand.

The man behind the desk gaped at Cas from over his thin glasses. His jaw was slack, his brows cinched, staring at him as if he were confused, which confused Cas more than anything.

“Yeah, well, video games might be a bit too complex for… some people.” The man hastily turned and stepped from behind the long counter. He gestured to an aisle stationed towards the back of the room. “There’s the less strenuous ‘board game’ that hasn’t failed at bringing together and tearing apart friendships for over five thousand years.”

Cas glared at the man. “I don’t wish to tarnish my friendship.”

“Well, then, I wouldn’t suggest _Monopoly_. And I’ve seen _Catan_ go very wrong.” Castiel followed the man down the aisle from a distance. “So, uh, we got the classics. Chess, checkers, _Connect Four_. Is it just you and your friend?”

“Yes. Just the two of us.”

“Okay, so everything right here is basically two players or more. You got your educational games, strategic games, games that piss everyone off no matter if you win or lose…” The man turned to Castiel. His lips tightened into a warm smile. “What’s your style, man?”

For Castiel, it didn’t matter. They all seemed like a waste of time. Though, he understood better than he should the reasoning behind inventions of such time-consuming trivialities. Across history, humans sought out every possible distraction from the horrors of humanity. It was perfectly reasonable that they would find colorful diversions when they could die from smallpox at any moment.

And for Frankie, a colorful diversion was what she needed.

Cas drained the last of Jimmy’s cash to purchase a small selection at the man’s suggestion and headed back to the apartment to set up for her return.

\---___---___---___---___---

Castiel stacked three of the boxes in the middle of the table, making sure to prominently display them. He glanced over the games’ titles, wondering if he should learn how to play them before Frankie arrived.

Heavy footsteps were muffled behind the front door and the doorknob rattled before he had the chance to open the topmost box’s lid. He quickly turned as the door opened.

Frankie groaned as she slammed the door shut. She kicked off her sneakers, sending them hurdling into the wall. She made a half-assed attempt at hanging her backpack on the wall hook and didn’t give a second look when it missed and plummeted to the floor.

“How was your day?” Castiel asked. He watched her waddle into the kitchen, keeping a sharp eye on her face, waiting for her to notice the new boxes on the table.

Her feet carried her to the fridge where she flung open the freezer door and took out one of her instant meals. She noticed nothing but the lightly frosted box in her hands and the microwave before her.

“Fucking awful. But, hey, they didn’t fire me, so there’s that.” She jerked the microwave open and tossed the plastic tray inside. She jabbed her middle finger into a series of buttons and the small appliance began preparing the meal. “Another successful day.”

Frankie stood in front of the humming microwave, her back facing Cas. After a tense silence, she slightly turned her head towards the angel and forced a calmer demeanor into her voice.

“What about you, Cas? How was your day?”

“It was…,” Castiel glanced at the table, “productive.”

Frankie made a noise in the back of her throat. It didn’t sound very positive. “Good for you.” The microwave chimed and Frankie removed the steaming tray, ignoring the burn. She turned and waddled to the table. “What, did you find God?”

“Um… no.”

“Tell Sam and Dean I’m not dead?”

“No.”

Frankie plopped into her chair with a huff. “Well then what the hell was so productive about today?”

She whipped her head to clear her face of hair and set her eyes forward. Her view of Cas was blocked by the stack of boxes that finally gained her attention.

Castiel observed her face, analyzing every change in her expression as she stared, mouth agape, at the board games before her. Doubt began to inject itself into his mind. Perhaps she would scoff at the idea of playing with an angel, and not in a humorous manner. Perhaps he should have planned this for another evening.

“Um,” she finally spoke, “what’re these?”

“Board games.”

“Yes, I know that. What are they doing _here_?”

Castiel adjusted the topmost box. “We have both been working hard. We harbor a great amount of strain. I have been led to understand that humans play games such as these to relieve stress and have fun.” Frankie flicked her eyes from the boxes to Cas. “Would you like to play?”

Frankie’s brows lifted, and she closed her parted lips. Her eyes scanned the three boxes in silence for a moment that Castiel determined was too long.

“Uh… yeah.” For a brief moment, the bags under her eyes seemed lighter, though it could have been a trick of the lighting. Her small smile, though, could not have been so easily misidentified. “Yeah, that does sound fun. Man, it’s been a while since I’ve played one of these. I probably haven’t sat down to play one in…”

The smile on her cheeks dimmed. The bags beneath her eyes darkened. The longer the silence trailed on, the more Castiel caught on to her distress.

“Once you finish eating your dinner,” he sat down in the seat across from her, “we can play one. Do you have a preference on which one you would like to engage in?”

Frankie tightened her lips into a poor excuse for a smile and took a bite of her food. “I did like chess growing up. Though, I don’t think I was ever really good at it.”

“Well, I have never played it. Statistically, I will not perform well, either.”

The curl of her lip’s corner was a better attempt at a grin.

As Frankie worked on her artificial meal, Castiel set aside the box of chess and placed the other two below the table. The girl chewed and watched Cas open the game and take out the pieces one by one.

Castiel’s brows seemed to be in a permanent state of furrowed. He unfolded the board, eyes flicking across the checkered pattern. He rotated the square mat to try and find the correct placement before laying it on the table in a position he hoped was right.

His next challenge: solving the mystery of where the individual black and white pieces went. The humans were wise enough to provide an image of the completed chess board on the box’s lid. With the superimposed photo as a guide, he carefully placed each piece in its correct position.

Frankie finished her meal and, without getting out of her seat, threw the tray into the trash can just as Cas set the final piece.

“Alright, so let me talk you through what the pieces do.” Frankie briefly looked over the board before placing a finger one of the small tokens with a round top. “These are pawns. They can only move forward and one space at a time. Oh, except for their first move. Then they can move twice. Got it?”

Castiel stared blankly at the piece under her finger for a long moment before nodding.

“Okay, uh… these are, uh…” Frankie pointed to the figurines that looked like horses. “Well, I used to call these ‘horsies.’ I don’t remember what they’re really called. They’re weird. They move in, like, ‘L’ shapes.” Cas tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. “Like, uh, they can move forward two spaces and one over, or two to the left and one up or down, or… y’know you’ll learn along the way.”

Castiel nodded, adjusting his own “horsey” on its square.

“These are… towers. Or castles. They move up, down, left or right, however many spaces you wanna move ‘em. And these pointy guys are…” Frankie rocked the narrow piece back and forth on its square. She shrugged and sighed. “Know what? We’ll just call them ‘wizards.’ They move diagonally. Alright, the last two pieces are the queen,” she pointed to the piece with a cross on its head, “and the king,” she gestured to the piece that looked like it wore a crown. “They can move in any direction, but the king can only move one space and the queen can move as many as she wants, ‘cause y’know what? She’s the queen and can do whatever she wants.”

That wasn’t historically accurate. The presence of a king would mean true political power is awarded to him, not his queen. How could it be that the woman he married has more power than the heir to the throne? The humans created their own monarchy and still got it wrong in their own game.

Castiel pushed passed the frustrating continuity errors and continued to listen to Frankie.

“So, the goal of the game is to capture the king. To get to the king, you gotta capture the pieces blocking the king. You capture another piece by kinda crashing another piece into it, as long as that piece abides by the rules of its movement. Uh… does that make sense?”

Castiel picked up a tower and moved it across the board in a straight line so that it slammed into one of Frankie’s pawns, sending a few of her tokens barreling across the table.

“Did I do that correctly?”

Frankie puffed a short breath of laughter as she picked her pieces up from the floor. “Uh, yeah. But, just maybe only knock over _one_ piece instead of five.”

“I see.”

“So, um… I’m not really good at explaining rules. I’m sure you’ll catch on as we play.”

“That’s alright. I believe I understand enough.”

Frankie raised her brows, appearing impressed. Castiel wasn’t sure if was because he understood or if it was that he understood her jumbled explanation.

“Well, uh, okay. Black goes first.” Frankie gesture to Cas, motioning for him to make his move.

Castiel deepened his narrowed brows, flicking his eyes over the board. His hand was quick to move a pawn up two spaces. Frankie smiled and nodded, glad to see that he remembered. She moved her far left pawn up two spaces.

While Cas moved another pawn, Frankie picked up a horsey and placed it on a space that was two squares forward and one square to her right.

The humans describe a sudden realization as a lightbulb going off in one’s head. Only now did Cas understand their meaning. He sat straighter in his seat, his mind seeming sharper, as her definition of “L” shape dawned on him. In response, he moved his own horsey forward and to the left.

Many things became clearer as their game progressed. Castiel realized that a great deal of strategy was required, and, though less so in scale, it possessed quite a few elements of a battlefield. Each piece represented a different faction of soldiers of varying strengths and specialties. That lightbulb in his head brightened, figuratively speaking.

Frankie leaned forward in her seat, her finger tapping on her chin as she took her time in deciding her next move. When she would finally move her piece, Castiel would immediately adjust his own, a single second barely passing before it was Frankie’s turn again.

What she couldn’t know is that he had a contingency plan for each of her pieces, a plan for any direction she moved. He had invented several routes to the king. It was only a matter of which route Frankie chose.

Pawn, wizard, tower, pawn, horsey, queen. All the while Frankie’s pieces danced around his strategy. Turn by turn, the white pieces on the board were peeled off, leaving a sea of black against her remaining tokens. She took out one of his wizards, and he responded by taking out her last remaining tower, putting his queen in the right position to terminate her unmoved pawn, her king’s last remaining defense.

“Dammit,” she whispered under her breath. “That’s check mate.”

Castiel looked up from the board. His eyes needed to adjust for a moment, his mind mellowing out of its computed state. “Check mate?”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Frankie shook her head with a small smile. “That’s when my king can’t move any spaces where it won’t die. It means you win.”

Castiel examined the board. She was right. It was exactly how he pictured it in his mind. It was the likeliest of positions for each of their pieces.

He glanced back at Frankie. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Frankie chuckled and extended a finger to her king. She flicked it, knocking it over. “Yeah. I’d say so.” Her eyes were glued to the board, looking over each black and white figurine. She hummed, the noise possessing a hint of laughter. Castiel tilted his head, attempting to decipher its meaning.

Frankie leaned back in her chair, smiling. “Wanna go again?”

Castiel sat straighter, a light smile reaching his face. “Yes.”

The board was reassembled, this time with Frankie playing as black and Cas as white. She began the game by having her horsey jump her pawns’ line of defense, Cas following by moving the pawn in front of his king two squares forward.

Unlike the first game, Frankie took on a more offensive strategy. Her priority was to capture as many pieces as she could early in the game. It was a smart move, but Castiel’s strategy was smarter. While she battled for more pieces on the board, Castiel was focused on controlling the center and constructing a solid defense. A good battle strategy values offense equally with defense, not more so.

Frankie noticed too late that her strategy was flawed. Castiel was whittling her forces down until she had to rethink her plan in the middle of battle, a guaranteed loss. Castiel was quick to finesse the board, moving his battalion forward to trap her king in an impenetrable blockade.

Setting his tower in its final place, Castiel sat straight in his chair and looked at Frankie. “Check mate.”

Frankie didn’t have a smile on her face this time. Her lips were quirked as she chewed on the inner lining of her bottom lip. Her chest lifted with a heavy sigh as she swatted at her king, knocking it down.

“Yup. It sure is. That’s what I get for basically playing with a robot.”

Her brows were furrowed into a light glare. He must have done something wrong. He may have let himself get carried away. Perhaps he should have let her win.

“Would you like to play a different game?”

“Yeah,” Frankie answered quickly. “Let’s see what you got here. Uh… oh, _Scrabble_. That one’s fun.”

Castiel put the chess board and pieces back inside its box and set it on the floor. He opened the _Scrabble_ box and took out the board inside. This one was quite different. It still had a series of squares, but there were several more of them, and some with differing colors indicating letters of varying values.

“Alright, so this game is a lot different than chess,” Frankie explained as she opened a satin bag. “You’re spelling words out with these letters.” She blindly took out seven square tokens, each possessing a single letter and a number, and handed them to Cas. She took out seven more and placed them on a wooden rack in front of her. Castiel put his squares on his own rack. “When you spell a word, you count up the points, and whoever has the most at the end of the game wins. Easy?”

“Yes. It seems so.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll go first.”

Frankie pondered over the squares in front of her for a few seconds before picking up four pieces. She placed them horizontally across the star square in the center of the board.

“There. ‘BANK.’ That’s ten points for me. So, now you build off this word. You can connect a word to any letter. Like, uh, say you wanna spell out ‘BOY.’ You’ll put an ‘O’ and a ‘Y’ under my ‘B.’ Make sense?”

Cas looked between the board and his letters before nodding. He picked up four letters and placed them vertically under Frankie’s ‘A.’

“‘AGENT.’ That’s a good word, Cas. Oh, and your ‘G’ is on a double letter score, so that’s, uh,” Frankie counted on her fingers, “eight points for you.” Cas lightly smiled at his success. “So, now we get more letters from the bag. We always need seven on our racks. Got it?”

Frankie seemed to be enjoying this game more than chess. Castiel preferred the planning and pacing of the previous game, but this one proved to be a decent pastime.

Frankie spelled “END,” and Cas spelled “DOUBT.”

Frankie spelled “TAP,” and Cas spelled “DEFEAT.”

Frankie spelled “WORK,” and Cas spelled “CONVICT.”

The board became a puzzle of parallel and perpendicular words. Just as in chess, Frankie took her time in determining her word of choice. Castiel knew his word the moment he replenished his rack with new letters.

“‘AXOLOTL’? Oh, c’mon, that can’t be a real word,” Frankie scoffed.

Castiel looked up from placing his letters, his brows furrowing. “It is. It’s the Mexican walking fish.”

Frankie sighed, a helpless smile on her face. “Well, that’s thirty points for you. Again.”

Frankie’s next turn had her stumped. Her eyes roamed the board, looking for any chance she had at a high scoring word. Castiel noticed that the small light in her eyes dimmed as she reached for a single letter.

“TO.”

Castiel placed his word the moment she settled her “O” into place. He spelled out “OMISSION.”

“Fuck,” Frankie sighed. “That’s another good word.”

She examined the board again. Several seconds passed before she placed her pieces. “SEA.”

Castiel responded immediately, placing his wooden letters with quiet clacking against board. Frankie furrowed her brows as he spelled out his word. She read it in silence, lightly shaking her head.

“‘ZORGE’? You’re just makin’ stuff up now.”

Castiel tilted his head. Surely, she must know-… oh.

He supposed he had been rather invested in the game that he didn’t even notice his mistake.

“It says ‘friend.’ It’s translated from Enochian.”

Frankie leaned back in her chair. “Different languages are against the rules, y’know. Guess it doesn’t really matter.” She dropped her hand to her lap, shaking her head and losing her smile. “Well, it’s hard to beat a thirty-five-point score.”

Castiel frowned at her forlorn tone.

Frankie turned her head, eyes falling on the microwave’s clock. “It’s getting late. I gotta get up early tomorrow. I’m gunna hit the hay.” Frankie scooted her chair back and stood from the table. “This, uh… this was nice, Cas. Thanks.”

She headed into her room to change into her sleep clothes as Castiel sat at the table.

This didn’t go as he planned. She had smiled and laughed, but it didn’t appear as if she had fun. The games had stressed her, the opposite reaction he had hoped for.

He put the games pieces back into their bag and packed away the board. He turned out the kitchen’s light and followed Frankie into her room to watch over her.

\---___---___---___---___---

The bell chimed loudly as Castiel marched into the store. The man with the tiny glasses jumped with a start, dropping books on the floor, and turned to gawk at the stormy looking angel.

“Uh, u-uh, hello sir-”

“You,” Castiel growled.

“ _Me_?”

“You lied to me.”

The man stepped back as Cas closed the distance between them, glaring daggers into the helpless clerk. “I-I-I did?”

Castiel’s gaze darkened. “She didn’t have fun.”

The store clerk stumbled and caught himself on a bookshelf. He gaped at Castiel, fear written across his face.

His eyes adjusted. “Wait.” He pointed to Cas. “You’re that guy who hit on me yesterday.”

“I purchased board games under your instruction. You gave me your word of their effectiveness, but she didn’t enjoy them.” Castiel stepped forward, his fists clenching. His voice rumbled in a growl. “You lied.”

“Woah, okay, look man.” The clerk raised his hands in defense. “I don’t know this chick. How am I supposed to know what she likes?”

Castiel’s glare didn’t waver.

The clerk balanced himself against the bookshelf. He took a moment to catch his breath. “Listen, pal. She’s _your_ friend. Think, what does she like?”

Cas listed off her likes and interests in his head, but he soon ran into a major issue.

His scowl melted into a contemplative glare. He leaned away from the frightened man, unfurling his hands.

He knew very little about the girl.

He knew that she was the daughter of John Winchester and Sierra Pearce. He knew that she was the half-sister of Sam and Dean, and he knew that she was branded by Heaven. He knew that she was recently freed from Hell. He knew that she had a temper, just like her brother. He knew that she was fond of drinking, swearing, and eating less than nourishing food.

That was all. There wasn’t much else to the girl, as far as his knowledge reached. And that was rather distressing.

The store clerk noticed Castiel’s hesitation. He huffed and pushed off the bookshelf, walking back towards the front desk. “I think you need to spend a little more time actually getting to know your friend.”

Cas let him walk away. Another distressing fact was that the deceiver of a man was right. He couldn’t begin to help his friend until he knew more about the human he was watching over.

He turned and left the store as quickly as he entered it, glaring at the store clerk on his way out.

\---___---___---___---___---

He sat on the couch, staring ahead. What was he to do? Asking the girl herself would prove effective, but she would surely wonder why he would develop a sudden interest in her own interests.

He could ask her brothers, but they would first need to be told that she was alive, and they were not yet ready for that information.

Perhaps she had a journal, some documentation of her thoughts and likes and dislikes over the years. That was rather common in human youths, but where would he begin to search for such an item?

Castiel was running out of options. This was a difficult task, even for an angel. He could fail to find God, he could fail to stop Lucifer, but this was a battle he couldn’t afford to lose. This was a war against Gamigin, and Castiel would be damned if he lost her to that beast.

Keys jingled outside the front door.

Cas sobered from his fretful state and threw his gaze around his surroundings. He quickly searched for a way to appear inconspicuous.

The doorknob turned.

Cas grabbed the remote control for the small, square television set in front of him and pressed the red button at the top. The screen flashed a quick white light before sizzling into a vibrant moving picture.

Frankie huffed as she stepped into the apartment, her feet heavy. She slammed the door shut and threw her backpack onto the floor, not aiming for the hook on the wall.

A bad day.

“Hello, Frankie.”

She greeted him with a hum. She walked further into the room, heading for the kitchen. Cas quickly pressed another button on the remote to try and seem discreet.

The button had changed the colorful picture to a darker scene of dull browns and grays. The people displayed carried guns and were dressed in military attire. It must have been a wartime drama. Curious, Castiel glanced down at the remote and pressed the same button.

The screen changed again. This time, humans wearing lengthy, white physician coats and medical uniforms walked across stretching hallways. Castiel was reminded, unsatisfyingly so, of their endeavor with the archangel Gabriel months ago.

“Are you watching _Dr. Sexy, M.D._?”

Castiel glanced over his shoulder. Frankie held a cold tray of her microwave meal in her hand. She stared between him and the television as she placed the tray into the appliance.

“Um…,” Castiel turned back to the screen. “I believe so.”

Frankie made a noise between and hum and a scoff. “Didn’t take you for the type.”

Castiel pressed his lips together and pushed the button again, changing the screen once more. The microwave chimed as Frankie activated the timer and whirred a low drone. While she waited for her dinner to cook, Castiel continued to change channels.

Humans were a creative assemblage. Each flick of the screen brought a different style of scene than the last. Flamboyant game shows, intense dramas, talk shows, newscasts, dated monochromatic comedies, films of any age, they had centralized them all for home use. Castiel would never cease to be amazed by his father’s creations and their ability to create.

“Wait.”

Castiel’s thumb froze. He glanced back at Frankie. She stared at the screen, a concentrated look in her eye.

“Wait, go back a few.”

Castiel’s eyes dropped to the remote in his hands. The button he had been pressing had an inverted twin. He jabbed his thumb into it, hoping that it would have the opposite effect of the previous button.

The screen flashed the last few channels that had previously appeared.

“Stop! Wait there.”

The screen lacked the vibrant colors of the other programs. The humans moved about in a world of black and white. An older production, no doubt. There was a woman who spoke in a gaudy, nasally tone and a well-dressed man of Latin descent glaring at her. Behind their words and gazes, an unseen assembly laughed at their antics.

Frankie stepped forward and stood next to the couch, her hand on her hip. Her eyes were glued to the screen, watching the scene unfold. The two were arguing back and forth while an older pair sat quietly between them. The Latin man angrily shouted in Spanish as he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“ _‘And whenever you’re ready to call me an’ apologize, you can call me down at the club!’_ ” he yelled.

“Don’t hold your breath!” Frankie muttered in unison with the female lead. Castiel glanced up at her. She wore a small smile as she watched the screen.

“You have watched this before,” Cas said, observing her bright eyes.

“Watched it before? This is my favorite show!”

Castiel’s brows slowly pulled together.

The microwaved beeped in the kitchen. Frankie placed her hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Don’t change it.” She went to fetch her dinner as the show progressed. “I used to watch this all the time back in Bama. I haven’t seen it in years. Thought they took it off the air for good.”

She returned to the couch. She plopped down next to Cas, lightly bouncing on the cushion. She balanced her meal on her lap and took a bite, her eyes never leaving the television screen.

Meanwhile, Castiel’s eyes never left her.

“Oh, this’s a good one, too.”

Castiel glanced back at the show. “What is this?”

“This’s called ‘ _I Love Lucy_.’ It’s from the fifties. See, the show’s about Lucy and Ricky and they’re married, so it’s following their lives. In this episode, their best friends – also married – are fighting, and so Lucy and Ricky try to fix it, but in doing so they end up fighting, too. It’s hilarious!”

Frankie was like a completely different person. Castiel hadn’t seen her like this since returning from Hell. In fact, he hadn’t seen her like this in all the time that he’d known her. Genuine joy was written across her face. Her cheeks were split by a wide smile. Her voice trickled with small laughter in harmony with the off-screen audience. It was unlike the joy she exuded when she was intoxicated. For the first time since he had met her, she seemed sincerely happy.

A ghost of a smile bloomed on Cas’s face. He turned back to the television, watching along with her.

The program proceeded to display the female lead, Lucy, pretending to be injured so that her husband would be the first to cease the fight. At the same time, the husband, Ricky, was trying to trick his wife into thinking their apartment was on fire so that he could pretend to save her. It was a flawed and damaging relationship the two seemed to have, and yet the audience, along with Frankie, seemed to find hilarity in it.

Frankie let out a loud series of giggles as Lucy struggled to tie a bedsheet around her waist while impaired by her fake bandages, and she snorted like a pig as the woman fell backwards out the window in order to escape the fake smoke seeping into the room. Castiel didn’t find the humor in the scene at all. She could have been killed.

The next scene showed Ricky walking Lucy back into the apartment and carefully sitting her down on the couch. They both proclaimed that the whole incident was their own fault and admitted that they were being silly. “Silly” wasn’t the word Castiel would use. Senseless was a better fit. Insane, even. But Frankie didn’t seem to think so.

As Ricky and Lucy lovingly kissed on the couch, Frankie tilted her head and watched the scene with amorous eyes. Perhaps it was the love the characters clearly possessed that saved their toxic relationship.

“Ugh, it feels so good to watch this again. I hope it’s a marathon,” Frankie proclaimed. She set her empty tray on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch with her feet hiked up on the cushion. “See, something cool is that Lucy and Ricky were actually married in real life. That makes the characters’ relationship so endearing! Oh, and later on when Lucy got pregnant, they wrote it into the show! The episode when they figure it out is a classic!”

Castiel nodded along with her rampant explanations and trivia of the show. She helped him to understand the program better, and he was beginning to see its allure, but his attention was focused on the excitement in her voice.

Her wish came true in the form of a marathon of episodes of _I Love Lucy_. As each one passed, Cas found himself becoming less worried about the toxicity of Lucy and Ricky’s relationship. He soon found the strange pairing to be somewhat entertaining. They certainly had an interesting dynamic; one he didn’t witness often.

A long while passed since Frankie last laughed. Worry overcame Castiel. She was doing so well. He hoped Gamigin didn’t come back to her thoughts. He turned his head to check on her.

She was curled around the arm of the couch, deep in a calm slumber. Her face was relaxed, not strained amid a nightmare. Her mouth let out quiet, nearly silent snores, not incoherent mumbles of fear.

Cas smiled.

He shut off the television, the screen hissing as it flicked to black. He sat quietly on the couch, staring ahead, waiting for her to awaken.

When morning came, the only confusion she was met with was why she wasn’t in her room. A quick look to her friend next to her settled her, and for the first time, she greeted the day with a smile.

When she left for work, Castiel was still sitting on the couch. In the quietness of the empty apartment, he smiled to himself. One more small victory in a world of defeat.


End file.
